Saying Goodbye
by MusicMajor22
Summary: How I view Season 5 to go. Slight AU at beginning as Finn is still alive the first two chapters. A tragic accident, mourning, growth, and understanding, plus a few twists along the way. Mainly focuses on the special relationship/friendship Will and Finn had, but many appearances by all. Rated T to be safe.
1. Prologue: After Regionals

The glee club sat excitedly on a Monday afternoon waiting for Mr. Schuester and Mr. Hudson to walk in with big smiles on their faces and carrying their 1st place Regionals trophy. They weren't disappointed. Just a few minutes later the duo came running in, grinning ear to ear. Finn placed their trophy in their growing winning case as Mr. Schue clapped his hands.

"Nice job, guys!" Mr. Schuester said happily. "We finally worked as a team and look at how well we did." The rest of the kids clapped as Finn stepped forward next.

"Now, we have to set our sights on Nationals. But first, we have a surprise for you."

"Another boy band mash-up by you and Mr. Schue?" Marley asked. The rest of the glee club nodded and applauded in agreement. Finn looked at Will. They had not prepared anything, but he didn't get the chance to sing much anymore, and things with Will, while better, were still a bit tense. Maybe one more duet would get the over that last hurdle. Will laughed but shook his head 'no'.

"Sorry, guys, no performance from us today," Mr. Schuester began. "Your surprise is that you have this whole week off! Now, I know some of you might be worried about losing rehearsal time for Nationals, but, I want you to, over this week, rest your voices, get as much as your schoolwork done ahead of time as possible, and start brainstorming ideas for a set list. The theme will be released sometime this week, they've told me. Sound good?" The glee club smiled in agreement. "Alright then, you can go. Be prepared to work hard next week." The students collected their things and said goodbye to their teachers on their way out.

Finn smiled back at the kids absentmindedly, his mind focused instead on Mr. Schue. Did he really just want the kids to leave at a decent time, hence the skipping their requested duet, or was Mr. Schue still upset at Finn and didn't _want_ to sing with him? He hoped it was the former. He had apologized and done everything he could think of to make up for what he did. And while Mr. Schue had said he had forgiven Finn, Finn still felt that things had not gone back to the way they were before, and maybe they never would.

"Finn?" Mr. Schue called. Finn snapped his head in Will's direction. "How about we grab a cup of coffee?"


	2. Chapter 1: Coffee and Mending

Will Schuester and Finn Hudson walked into the coffee shop silently. At the counter, Will placed his order and motioned for Finn to place his. When the cashier gave the total, Finn reached for his wallet.

"No," Mr. Schue said, handing the girl a $20. "My treat today." Finn was elated. Maybe Mr. Schue didn't hate him anymore after all.

"No, really, Mr. Schue, I can pay for my own," Finn said.

"Put your wallet away. We haven't had much time to talk, with Regionals and everything. I'd like to catch up."

"Thank you," Finn said sheepishly, placing his wallet back into his pants pocket. They grabbed their drinks and headed to an open table. After getting settled, they sat for a moment in awkward silence.

"So," Will began, "how is school? You doing okay, balancing everything okay?" As many issues and conflicting emotions as he had with Finn at the moment, he knew that the kid needed guidance from time to time, especially if he was taking classes and helping with the glee kids.

"It's okay. I was struggling a little bit, because you know how I'm not the smartest, but I got a tutor, and I'm doing better," Finn explained.

"Well, if you ever get stuck, or need help, let me know," Will said, trying to smile encouragingly at Finn. However, with their friendship slowly rebuilding on rocky ground, he was nervous, and the smile didn't quite reach his eyes. Finn noticed, and he felt his blood boil.

"Why? Do you expect me to fail? Of course you do. You yourself told me I was weak and you only helped because you pitied me," Finn spat out. Will looked as though he had been slapped, and he took a deep breath trying to compose himself before speaking. Finn, however, knew he had misread his teacher's meaning as soon as he saw the color drain from Will's face.

"Oh, Mr. Schue! I am so sorry! I didn't mean it, really," Finn explained quickly. He had ruined things yet again. Upon closer look, by the way Will was sitting and fidgeting with his coffee cup, Finn could see now that his former teacher was just nervous, much like he himself was, even though he did not want to admit that out loud.

"It's-It's okay, Finn. I kind of deserved that. But, I was being serious, if you need help with school work, or need someone to talk to, or even need a ride home from a party because you had too much to drink, call me, anytime. I was angry when I spoke to you like that." Finn looked at him closely. He seemed to mean it. Part of him really wanted to ask Mr. Schue if everything was forgiven, if the tension was just in his imagination, that it was ebbing away. But, Finn kept his mouth closed. He didn't want to keep opening the wound of his actions that had finally started to heal.

"Thanks, Mr. Schue. I'll keep it in mind." Again, they sat in an awkward silence for a few moments.

"So, how is it, being a married man?" Finn asked. "Well, married again, I mean," he added after. Will's eyes clouded for a moment, but then his whole face lit up.

"It's great! Having a small wedding was the right thing. We are so happy." Finn smiled, and pulled a small card out of his pocket. He held it out to his teacher.

"What's this?" Will asked.

"Wedding present. I felt bad that I wasn't there for your wedding, you know, to be your best man, so I wanted to get you both something. Kurt suggested this weird crystal turtle thing, but I thought this would be a bit more, well, practical." Will opened it and read a basic "congratulations" note, and found a gift card for "Cleening Iz Us", a new store entirely devoted to cleaning supplies. Will laughed.

"Thanks, Finn! This will definitely get used." They talked for a little while longer before Finn noticed the time.

"Sorry, Mr. Schue, but I have to get back to school, I have class in an hour," Finn began, as he stood up and Will came to his feet also. As much as he wanted to do things on his own, he did want to ask his mentor for one final piece of advice. Unfortunately, he ran out of time. "Hey, Mr. Schue? Do you want to go with me to a baseball game on campus tonight? I wanted to ask you for some advice, but I lost track of time today," Finn rambled quickly.

"Ah, Finn, I wish I could, but I promised Emma we could have a date night tonight since we've been so busy with preparing for Regionals. I don't have the heart to let her down again. Rain check though? We can talk about it tomorrow. I'll even let you buy me lunch," Will laughed and clapped his hand on Finn's shoulder. Finn chuckled too, and realized that this coffee meeting had definitely helped. He almost had his older brother/father figure back in his life, and Finn was ecstatic.

"Sounds good, Mr. Schue. And thanks for the coffee! I will see you tomorrow, alright?" Finn took a chance and stepped forward and gave his mentor a hug before leaving. It felt right. No more anger, disappointment, or tension was found in Mr. Schue's face or hug. Things seemed to be returning to normal. Will looked at Finn, and realized that he was no longer angry. He was happy things seemed to be a lot better, and that he viewed Finn the way he used to. Finn smiled and turned to leave and began to walk towards the door.

"Wait! Finn?" Mr. Schue called out. Something had come to his mind, one last thing he wanted to say, something difficult, but something that he felt he needed to express. Finn turned around.

"Yeah?"

"I just wanted to say…have fun at the game tonight," Will finished. Finn gave him his goofy, lop-sided smile, and waved before finally leaving. Will lost his nerve, and could not say what he wanted to say. 'Oh well', he thought, there would be time for that later.


	3. Chapter 2: WIll and Puck

"Do you like this movie?" Emma asked her husband as they sat curled up on the couch with a glass of wine in their hands. Will turned to face her. It was late, and their date night had gone incredibly well. It was now almost 2:30 in the morning, and the night had gone so well that neither one of them wanted it to end.

"It's okay. But it's not going to be one of my favorites," Will replied. Emma gave him a coy smile.

"Okay," she said mischievously, getting up and walking towards their bedroom.

"What? Where are you going?" Will asked, calling after her. Emma laughed and gave him a smile.

"Stay right here. You'll see." Just when she made it to the top of the stairs, their doorbell rang. Will looked up startled and Emma turned around and looked down the stairs.

"Who do you think-?" Emma began. "It's so late."

"It's probably another kid pranking us," Will said with a sigh. While they loved their new house, the neighborhood was having a hard time with a few pranksters ringing doorbells and running, leaving sprinklers on, etc. A neighborhood watch was started up last week, but he guessed they missed this kid.

"It's okay, Em. Go do what you were going to do. I'll take care of this, and meet you upstairs?" He said with a devilish grin of his own. Emma disappeared and Will walked to the door. This kid had just gotten in the way of he and Emma doing, well, you know, so Will was happy to give this kid a piece of his mind. He opened the door and his eyes grew wide.

Standing outside, in the rain, covered in gashes and bruises, mud and blood, and with an arm in a sling, grasping the doorframe was-

"Puck!" Will exclaimed, shocked. Puck's eyes were red and puffy. He looked pale and part dazed. "Puck! What happened to you? What's wrong?" Puck took a faltering step towards Will and then felt his knees buckle beneath him. Will grabbed him just in time and held him upright.

"Mr. Schue," Puck choked out, grasping at is teacher's shoulders for support.

"Noah!" Will almost shouted at him. "What. Happened," he said again, this time slowly and precisely. Puck then did something he rarely did in front of other people. He began to cry, while muttering a string of words. Will listened carefully as he tried to grasp what he was saying between the sobs.

"Party…sick…Finn…accident…rain…crash…hurt…help…" Puck just kept repeating those words, over and over as Will tried with difficulty to put the meaning together. Finally, he had to shake Puck lightly by the shoulders to snap him out of it.

"Noah. I can't help you if you don't tell me what happened. You mentioned a party. Where was the party?" Will asked, a knot beginning to form in the pit of his stomach. Puck took a shaky breath and looked at the floor.

"At school," he replied simply. Will nodded.

"Okay. You went to a party at school. Was there alcohol involved? Did you drink?"

"Yeah, we both did, but I didn't know about Finn," Puck replied quietly. Will felt that knot get bigger.

"Finn was there? I thought he was going to a baseball game?"

"He changed his mind when you had plans with Miss Pillsbury, I mean, Mrs. Schuester, and then it began to rain, so we went to a party off campus instead."

"What happened at the party? You were both drinking…"

"We split up around 9:30. I was checking out and hitting on these hot babes from a sorority, and Finn went off somewhere with some other dudes. And then, around 10:30, Finn came to get me saying he didn't feel very well. He looked pale…" Puck said, getting anxious.

"Puck, what happened to Finn?" Will said, getting scared now. Where was Finn? Why was Puck the one in his hallway? "Noah?"

"I didn't want to drive because I had had too much to drink," Puck continued. "Finn said he would. He didn't look good, but he swore he could drive, he just wanted to go home..."

"What. Happened. To. Finn?"

"…And he started driving crazy once we hit the main road back to campus. He was sweating and shaking, and couldn't control the wheel. It was raining which made it even worse. I kept telling him to pull over, that me driving in my condition would be better than his ability at that moment, but he kept going…"

"Puck! Where's Finn?!" Will was beginning to panic. He could see where this was going, and he was praying to God that he was wrong.

"We went to go around a sharp curve, and the next thing I knew, we were flying. I closed my eyes, and when I opened them again we were upside down, 20 feet down, in a woods, or ravine, or something. I couldn't move my arm, and I couldn't breathe well, and I couldn't see…"

"WHERE'S FINN?" Will shouted, knowing he should be more sensitive, more supportive, more patient. But, he just couldn't bring himself to care.

"Gone…Mr. Schue…he's, he's gone," Puck sobbed even harder. Will's eyes filled with tears. No! That can't be. He had talked to him just this afternoon. He couldn't be gone…not that way, not that way.

"Gone, what do you mean 'gone'?" Will asked, clutching Puck's shoulders harder, not noticing the very noticeable flinch Puck supplied.

"He was conscious, for a minute or two. There was blood everywhere and we were trapped. He kept saying the same few things over again. 'Rachel', 'need to tell her', 'tell Mr. Schue', 'sorry', 'love them', 'Mom'. He kept on saying them, and only them, over and over, even though I tried to get him to expand on that. Then, he got quieter. I couldn't find my cell phone, couldn't call for help. I kept shaking him awake, but his voice got softer. He looked white and was shaking all over. I grabbed his hand, and, and, told him I wouldn't leave him. And he turned his head towards me, and Mr. Schue, it was s-so slow, but he looked at me, and gave me his goofy Finn smile and whispered, 'I love you, bro'. I put on a brave face and told him I loved him too, and to not fall asleep. Then, help was there, and they got us out, but, but, Finn was gone! It's all my fault, Mr. Schue! It's all my fault. I never should have let him drive. I should have called a cab. It's my fault, it's my fault. I'm sorry...I'm sorry…I'm sorry"," Puck kept repeating.

Will couldn't see anymore. He didn't know what was going on. He felt he was in a dream, in a nightmare. Finn. The boy he had heard singing in the shower those few years ago. The football player, the cool jock he blackmailed into New Directions. He hadn't gained a singer that day, he had gained a friend. A kid who helped stop the bullying, who was a natural born leader. Who loved fully, and tried so hard to impress people. The kid who came to Will for advice, for help. The young man who tried to redeem his father's status in the military. The kid who loved a girl so much he gave up on a chance for a happy marriage for her to follow her dream. Even though Finn had kissed Emma, he knew that it had been a mistake, an accident. He should have known that then. That Finn, being Finn, had just been trying to help and screwed up in the process.

"Finn…Finn." Will couldn't put any more sentences together. He felt the world closing in on him, and his vision began to spin. He found that his legs couldn't support him and Puck anymore, and they both sank to the ground. Puck hugged Will as if his life depended on it, both of them unable to control their emotions. Will closed his eyes and rocked them both, not knowing if it was for the boy who had just lost his pseudo-brother, or for himself, who had lost his pseudo son, pseudo brother, and definite friend. Life would never be the same, and Will didn't know how he would be able to live without his best man by his side.


	4. Chapter 3: Will, Emma, and Puck

_A/N: I am so honored to be getting so much feedback on this. It has been a really long time since I wrote any fanfiction (between teaching and grad school), but, in hearing about Cory's passing, I found that this was the only way to work through my sadness of it all. Of course, none of these characters belong to me. And this is all dedicated to Cory Monteith's memory._

Emma heard voices from her bedroom, and she groaned. She went back to her closet and grabbed one of her many clean bathrobes hanging there. She had been so excited to go to bed with her husband. Every day, Emma's obsessive compulsive disorder was getting better, and she was so proud that she was beginning to be a proper wife to her new husband. Placing her bathrobe over her very short nightgown, she headed out the door to go back downstairs to find out what was keeping her Will from her. She looked down the stairs and her hand went to her mouth in shock.

In her foyer, on the floor, was her husband rocking a very wet and very _dirty_ Noah Puckerman. Both were crying and muttering things. Emma flew down the steps, her bathrobe flowing half a second behind her. She knelt down next to the pair, placing her gentle hand on Will's shoulder, her eyes wide.

"Will?" He did not stop rocking, he did not look at her. He kept muttering. She shook his shoulder gently and tried again.

"Will? What's wrong? What's happened?" More rocking, more muttering. Emma leaned down close to his face to try to catch what he and Puck were saying. Puck was saying, 'I'm sorry', over and over. Will only said one word on repeat. 'Finn'. Emma got increasingly nervous, and usually, when this level of stress hits, she would become paralyzed with fear and anxiety, shutting down and going into cleaning mode. But, seeing the two of them, in shock, even with the mud (and was that blood?) on the floor, she was able to take control of the situation.

"Will, Honey? You keep mentioning Finn. Where's Finn? Is he okay?" Will finally lifted up his head and his eyes, bearing immeasurable grief, looked into his wife's own frightened ones. He took a few shuddering breaths and looked back down at the floor, Puck still not letting go of his former teacher.

"Ems, Finn is…h-he's gone," Will said quietly, and Emma's look changed to one of confusion.

"Gone? What do you mean, 'gone'?"

"He's…well, he's…um…h-he…", Will could not finish, he broke into renewed sobs, burying his face into Emma's shoulder, making it damp. She flinched a little, but kept control of herself.

"Will? You're scaring me. I can't understand what you're saying. Take a deep breath and try again," Emma said, trying to handle the situation delicately.

"HE'S DEAD!" Puck screamed, letting go of Will and covering his head and face with his hands. "AND IT'S ALL MY FAULT. It's all my fault…," he said again quietly. Emma's eyes immediately filled with tears and she felt herself begin to hyperventilate. Finn couldn't be dead. That tall, gawky boy, who talked to her on more than one occasion, seeking guidance, offering words of kindness. He couldn't be gone. He was supposed to graduate college, become a teacher, be a miniature Will. She wanted to leave the room, grab the cleaning supplies, force Will and Puck off of her hardwood floors and scrub the mud and blood off of them until you could see your reflection in them.

No! She pushed that thought from her mind and assessed the situation, not even realizing the monumental occasion of her forcing her OCD to the back of her mind. She looked at the men. She wished she had a pamphlet for something like this. She had no words, no advice. She wanted to grieve herself, but knew that she was needed to take the reins, to be the leader _Finn _would have been during a tragedy like this. She got up quietly and brushed her arm along Puck's shoulder, giving it a squeeze, and then doing the same to her husband. Will's position mimicked Puck's now. He wanted his wife, he wanted to hold her tightly and never let her go. But then, that would make this real somehow. Sitting here, closing his tear-filled eyes, he could pretend it was simply a nightmare. It wasn't happening. He would see Finn tomorrow, harass him about choosing to eat at Breadstix, helping him solve another problem, and picking repertoire out for Nationals. He wouldn't be sitting on the floor, with an injured Puck beside him, wanting to comfort him, but wanting to somehow blame him for what happened. But, he couldn't. Puck was innocent in this. He hadn't known. He knew enough that he shouldn't have been driving himself, and that showed maturity that Puck wouldn't have had a year ago. He should ask if Puck was okay, but he wasn't there yet. He felt Emma's hand on his shoulder and he realized he wanted her to stay, but she was gone.

Emma went to the bathroom and grabbed a few large towels and laid them on the couch, and disappeared upstairs. She came down a moment later, with shampoo, soap, towels, washcloths, and a pair of Will's pajama bottoms and a t-shirt in her arms. She took them to the downstairs bathroom and then went into the kitchen where she grabbed a roll of saran wrap and duct tape. Once back in the living room, she knelt down beside Puck, attending to him first.

"Noah, Sweetie? Did you want to stay here tonight?" She asked softly, again, placing her hand comfortingly on his arm. He finally quieted and looked up at her.

"I can stay? You don't mind?" His eyes were wide, and sad, and it broke Emma's heart.

"Of course you can. I figured you may not be ready to go home yet…"

"And I don't want Jake to know yet," Puck interrupted. "We should know first." Emma understood what he meant. The original New Directions members. They would take the news the hardest, and should find out first. Emma wondered who was going to tell them. Looking at Will, she didn't think he would be able to do it.

"Okay. I understand. Now tell me, what injuries do you have?" Puck looked down, as if he couldn't remember right away.

"Um, I think they said I had several bruises and cuts, which should heal on their own. The gash on my head and knee look bad, but they've been stitched up. I have three or four broken ribs, and a broken arm. They gave me these," and he pulled out a bottle of vicodin, "but I haven't taken any yet. I just really want a shower." Emma looked at the unopened bottle.

"You haven't had any pain medication?"

"No. I had a couple advil in the ambulance but refused any more. I wanted to be with it as they tried to bring…to bring Finn back." Emma felt suddenly motherly towards the boy, well, man now.

"Okay, let's get you ready for a shower," Emma said awkwardly and glancing at her husband. He didn't even seem to notice her.

"How, Miss Pillsbury? I mean, Mrs. Schuester. I'm all bandaged up and I'm pretty sure the doctors don't want my cast or rib bandages to get wet."

"Well," Emma began with a slight smile, "you forget that I am the master of keeping things clean. Let me take your sling off, and then we'll get your shirt off. Is that okay?" He nodded. On a normal day, he would have cracked a joke about stripping down, but not tonight. She was providing him with the care that he desperately needed. She helped unclasp the sling, and lifted the shirt over his head, and she walked him over to sit on the towel-covered couch, leaving a puddle of mud and blood on the floor.

"Mrs. Schuester! I am so sorry. I didn't even realize that I was creating a huge mess. I'm sorry," Puck pleaded. Emma hushed him soothingly, and she realized that at the moment, she could care less about her floor. It surprised her, but she snapped out of that thought quickly. She motioned for Puck to hold his arm out and she carefully wound saran wrap tightly around his cast-covered arm. When it was fully encased, she duct taped it into place, cautioning Puck that the pieces stuck to his skin would probably hurt when he pulled them off. Next she saran wrapped his torso, where his ribs were covered in clean (thank goodness!) bandages.

"Alright, Noah. I think you are good now. Shampoo, soap, towels, everything you need is in the bathroom down the hall. There is a guest room across from the bathroom you can sleep in, or there is the couch, if you would prefer that, just take off the towels first. I am going to take Mr. Schuester upstairs and get him to bed. If you need anything, just call for us, okay?" Emma looked carefully at the boy, wishing she could do more for him. She held out her hand and helped him to his feet. He looked at her oddly for a second, and then threw his arms around her.

"Thank you, Mrs. Schuester," he choked out. "I just can't go home yet. Thank you."

"You're welcome, honey."

"Is Mr. Schue going to be okay?" Puck asked, looking worried. Emma looked over at Will, and saw that he was still sitting on the floor, his head in his hands. She sighed before speaking.

"I'm going to work on him right now. Now you go get cleaned up and try to get some sleep. Also, take a glass from the kitchen and take one of your vicodin. You are going to be feeling this more as the night goes on. Goodnight, Noah." She patted him on the shoulder.

"Goodnight." Puck turned around and began to walk towards the bathroom. Once she heard the sound of the shower running, she walked over to her husband and sat beside him. She put her arm around him and rested her head on his shoulder. He lifted his head and looked at her, his eyes red, swollen, and still full of tears.

"How did this happen, Em? How could he be fine this morning, and gone 12 hours later? I don't understand. He was so young, so healthy. How could this have happened? I already miss him," he cried, gathering her into his arms. At least he was talking, so Emma was grateful.

"Will, sweetheart, sometimes," she spoke slowly, cautiously. "Sometimes things like this just happen. We can't change them and we can't go back and prevent them. Somehow, it was just his time. We'll get more answers later. Right now, we just have to focus on being strong for the kids, our kids, because they are going to need us. We are _all_ going to miss him. It would be impossible not to. And it's okay for us to grieve and cry, and not want to go on. But, we will go on. If not because we want to, then because we know Finn would have wanted us to be the leaders he was, and to live the life he now can't." Emma finished her speech, her own eyes wet, and gave Will a kiss on the cheek before nuzzling her face in his neck.

"Emma? I don't deserve you, you know that? And thank you. Thank you for being so great with Puck. Is he going to be okay?"

"Yes. He has quite a few injuries, but he'll survive. He is taking a shower right now, and I told him to take one of his pain pills. It will help him sleep too. We just have to be careful that he doesn't become dependent on them," Emma added. Will thought for a moment.

"I'll talk to Jake. He can keep an eye on Noah and take the pills away if need be." Emma nodded.

"Let's get you up to bed," she said, helping him to stand up. He looked down and grimaced.

"What about the floor? I can stay up and clean it up. It must be killing you. I am so sorry," he apologized. She looked at his tired face, and gave him a wan smile.

"You know what? It's not really bothering me all that much. It can wait until tomorrow. Let's go." Will put his arm around his wife and they made it up the stairs to their bedroom. The got ready for bed, and Will sat down on the edge, looking at a picture of the first year of New Directions that he had next to his bed. He didn't know Emma was behind him until she put her arms around him and looked over his shoulder.

"You all look so happy in this picture. You've all come a long way. Focus on that. Finn needs to be remembered for helping to make this group happen. He left a legacy. And you should be proud. You helped him become that legend," she comforted, smoothing his hair. He turned to look at her and his mouth dropped in surprise.

"Ems? Was that what you were going to show me earlier?" He asked, motioning to her very short, somewhat see-through nightgown, now visible without the bathrobe. She blushed.

"Yes, but that didn't quite work out, did it?"

"Emma, tonight has made me think. Do I tell you that I love you enough? Because I do. I love you so much it hurts. And, thank you for tonight. I couldn't have handled this the way you did. You are so strong, and caring. I just, I am just so happy to have you in my life," and Will kissed her passionately, laying them both down on the bed.

"Will, honey?" Emma interrupted, slightly out of breath. "Are you sure you want to do this? It's been a rough night." Will kissed her again, eyes glossy again.

"Emma, I just need you to be with me tonight, really with me. I just need _you_," he said softly, pulling her close to him.

"Okay," she said simply, kissing him this time, letting it develop deeper, both of them grateful that they had each other.


	5. Chapter 4: Burt and Carole

"Honey? Burt? Wake up," Carole said softly, sitting on the edge of the couch, looking into the face of her husband with a tired smile. Burt groaned and opened his eyes. Even though his doctor had cleared him of prostate cancer, he had recommended one final round of chemo as a precaution. While Burt had wanted no part of it, Carole, Finn, and Kurt had made it clear that if the doctor suggested it, he was going to do it. He was a little more than halfway through, with two more treatments left. It was the middle that always affected him most. He didn't know why, maybe it was his mind tricking him. The beginning of the course was always easy, mainly because he was usually rested after a break from the treatments, and was determined to get through another round. The end seemed easier too, maybe because he was almost done, or done, and he knew he could finish. But, the middle? No, the middle was difficult. He was at his weakest and sickest halfway through, and spent most of his nights bundled up in blankets on the couch, trying to get through another day. Burt cleared his throat softly.

"Carole, what time is it?"

"About 9:30," she replied. He groaned.

"I fell asleep on you again," it was a statement, not a question. "I'm sorry," he apologized. Carole pressed a kiss to his forehead.

"It's okay. Nothing has been going on. Talked to Finn earlier, he said he's coming over for dinner." She yawned.

"How about we go to bed? I'm a bit tired too," she suggested, holding out her hand. Even though it was Burt going through the chemo, cancer had taken its toll on Carole also. She was trying to work extra hours at the hospital as Burt couldn't work much, she was taking Burt to all his treatments, she was up at night with him when he was sick, and still she found time to check in with her boys. Yes, cancer was hard on both of them. The thought of going to bed early seemed to be a good one, and Burt didn't look like he was going to argue. Burt grabbed her hand and slowly got to his feet, his legs a little shaky and his blanket still wrapped around his shoulders. He put his arm around his wife's shoulders and kissed the top of her head. Words were not needed as the two of them walked cautiously into the bedroom, Carole bearing some of Burt's weight. They crawled into bed, gave each other a quick goodnight kiss, and promptly fell asleep.

Burt did not stay asleep for long. His eyes snapped open as he felt that all-too familiar nausea coming from the chemo. He looked at the clock. 11:30. He had gotten two hours of sleep, that was it. He closed his eyes and breathed slowly and deeply, trying to suppress the urge to throw up. Carole needed her sleep for once. She hadn't gotten a full night's rest in months, and he was getting worried about her. Every time he had gotten up in the middle of the night, she had insisted on staying up with him. He was determined to let her sleep.

That determination didn't last long as he felt the acid burning his throat. He ripped off his covers and raced to the bathroom as quickly as he could before dropping to his knees in front of the toilet. He stayed like that for a while, every few minutes emptying the little he even had in his stomach. He was out of breath, covered in sweat, and shaking. Leaning his forehead against the cool side of the porcelain tub, he heard movement in the bedroom. Damn! He had forgotten to close the bathroom door. 'This cancer thing really sucks', Burt thought. Carole appeared in the doorway a moment later, her bathrobe wrapped tightly around her, worry and tiredness evident in her eyes. She silently went to the linen closet and grabbed a washcloth, rinsing it with cold water and wringing it out.

"Don't do that," she softly scolded. "That tub is probably swimming in germs." Burt looked up at her and sighed, before feeling another urge to throw up. Carole sat on the floor beside him, rubbing his back until he had stopped. When he sat back again, she placed the cold cloth upon his forehead, wiping the beads of sweat off with it.

"The middle is always the worst," she said soothingly, continuing to pat his face. "Just remember that. You are nearly done."

"I'm sorry," he rasped out, his voice tired. "I tried not to wake you up."

"I'm fine," she replied. "I could care less if I sleep. You will always be more important." She kissed him. "Can I get you anything?"

"Can you get my nausea medication, please? It's in the kitchen," he answered. Carole knew he was feeling his absolute worst if he was actually requesting medication. He had only asked for it once before in the past few months, and that had been a long couple of days for the both of them.

"Sure," she said sweetly, pushing herself off the floor. "I'll be right back." She began to walk away when Burt grasped her hand, placing a soft kiss on the back of it. She squeezed his hand and smiled before leaving.

Burt really felt that he didn't deserve her. She was like Superwoman, constantly overcoming things and taking care of everybody. He hated putting her through this more than he hated being the one actually being affected by cancer. He felt that known acid again and began to retch into the toilet once more. All he knew was that he couldn't wait until he could take that medication and go back to bed.

Carole wandered into the kitchen and grabbed the bottle of pills Burt needed before heading back into the bathroom. Walking through the bedroom, she saw her phone blink. She went over and picked it up, noticing that she had 2 missed calls. She was about to open them, when the phone began to ring again. It was Finn. A sense of dread filled her as she looked at the clock. 11:50. That was never a good sign. Knowing that Burt was sick and went to bed early, he said he would never call after 9 unless it was an emergency. She flipped the phone open.

"Finn, honey, what's wrong?" She answered in a cautious voice.

"Ma'am?" A deep voice, unknown to her responded. "Are you the mother of Finn Hudson?" Fear gripped her heart. She had remembered a phone call like this 18 years before.

"Yes, I am Carole Hudson-Hummel, his mother," she said. She heard the man take a deep breath.

"My name is Sheriff Watson. Your son, Finn, was in a car accident tonight." Carole felt her world close in.

"Is he-Is he alright?" She asked, knowing that he must not be if Finn wasn't calling her himself.

"Mrs. Hudson-Hummel, Finn suffered traumatic injuries. He is in an ambulance en route to Lima General Hospital. I am afraid that I don't have any other details for you. However, I would suggest making it to the hospital as quickly as you can. It was pretty bad. Again, I'm sorry." And he hung up. Carole knew what those words meant. 'Get to the hospital quickly', and 'pretty bad' were words that she had used in the past herself when working at the hospital. Those phrases really meant, 'he doesn't have much time', and 'he's not going to make it'. She dropped the phone out of her hands, and wasn't even aware that she slid off the bed, tears in her eyes, thinking that this couldn't be happening.


	6. Chapter 5: Burt, Carole, and Finn

Burt wondered what was taking Carole so long, and he thought he had heard voices. Then, he heard something thud to the floor in their bedroom. Alarm crossed his mind and he struggled to his feet. Something was wrong.

Walking unsteadily, he made it into the bedroom where he saw Carole slumped on the floor looking dazed.

"Carole? What is it? What's wrong?" He said urgently, truly scared of the look on her face. She just shook her head as she finally stood. She raced to the closet and pulled on the first articles of clothing she saw.

"Get dressed," she commanded, still not explaining herself. She flew into the bathroom, brushed her teeth, and ran a brush through her hair. Burt was confused and concerned, but he got dressed as quickly as his tired body would let him. Carole ran into the bedroom again, grabbing her phone and looking at Burt.

"Come on!" She almost yelled. Finally Burt grasped her shoulders and looked her in the eye.

"Carole! Tell me what's going on and why we are leaving in the middle of the night." To his astonishment, she began to cry.

"It's Finn. A-a sheriff j-just called. F-Finn's been in an a-accident," she cried. "We need to get to the h-hospital. It sounds b-bad." Burt hugged her, trying to keep his own emotions in check. He dry-swallowed two of his pills, and then grabbed his keys.

"Come on," he said softly. "I'll drive." Carole looked at him sadly.

"You barely have enough energy to w-walk. I can d-drive." Burt shook his head firmly.

"No. I have enough strength to do this. Let's go. It's going to be okay." In his head, Burt prayed that he was right.

The short 5-minute drive seemed to last forever. Burt parked in the emergency department lot, his face white. Carole practically jumped out of the car and sprinted into the hospital leaving Burt behind.

"Where is Finn Hudson?" She demanded, scaring one of the night nurses. The young girl looked confusedly at her.

"Who?" She asked. Carole felt her patience leave her.

"Finn Hudson. Where is he? He was in a car accident, and I was told they were bringing him here. Where is he?" She asked again. The girl went to her computer and began to search. Finally, she answered.

"He is not currently here, but, I do have on record that an ambulance is coming in as we speak. That's probably him." No sooner had she finished, that a gurney burst through the doors, several EMTs surrounding it. Even covered in blood, Carole knew it was her son.

"Finn!" She screamed. She ran to the gurney, only to be blocked by an EMT.

"I'm sorry, Ma'am," he said, holding his hand up. "Only medical personnel can get this close. He has severe injuries."

"I am a nurse," she shrieked. "And he is my son! I want to see him!" The EMT stepped away, as Carole moved in, jogging alongside the gurney as they rushed him into one of the rooms. He looked bad, Carole could see that. They had him bagged and intibated, meaning that he couldn't breathe on his own. His face was white and clammy, meaning he was losing body heat, which could mean there was internal damage. She grabbed his hand, and while it was not cold, it was unnaturally cool. Carole had to sprint to keep up with the EMTs and ER staff running the gurney to the nearest Emergency Surgical room. They finally reached an empty one, and they paused in front of the doors. An ER doctor stepped forward. Carole immediately recognized him as one of the doctors she worked with from time to time. She sighed slightly in relief as he was, in her opinion, one of the best doctors in the hospital.

"Carole? I'm sorry, but I can't have you in there with him. I'm not going to lie to you, he is in really bad shape, and we are going to need all of the staff and help I can have in there…"

"But I can-" Carole began, but she was stopped when Dr. Krane raised his hand.

"No, Carole. You are too connected to this case. Yes, you are a nurse, and I know you want to help, but right now? Right now, I need you to be a mother, and wait outside the door. Normally, I would make you stay in the waiting room, but I know you too well to expect you to do that willingly. But, I need you to stay uninvolved and let us do our work. Is that understood?" Carole looked shaken and angry, but, deep down, she knew he was right. She also knew she was wasting valuable seconds, arguing with the doctor who was going to try to save her son's life.

"You're right," she breathed. "Can I say goodbye?"

"Quickly," Dr. Krane answered, looking nervous now. Carole walked to her son's head and looked into his face. He looked as though he was sleeping. She brushed his matted hair off his forehead to give him a kiss there, when one of the monitors he was hooked to showed him flat-lining.

"Okay, we need to get him inside, call for Dr. Fernes and Dr. Hentz for confirmation. We need all hands on deck," Dr. Krane began to bark, pulling the gurney quickly into the Trauma room. Finn was pulled from Carole before she could say goodbye, his forehead pulled away from her lips. She squeezed his hand and whispered a soft, "I love you, Sweetheart", before his hand too was taken from her. She walked up to the trauma room doors, her face and hand pressed up against the glass. A small army of doctors, surgeons, and nurses flooded the room, and Carole's heart sank as she saw the monitor continue to flatline. She smiled slightly as he was brought back, and cheered him on in her head, _Come on kiddo, come on, Finn._ Surgeons started cutting in to repair some internal damage and Finn seemed to be breathing on his own again. Dr. Krane even afforded Carole a small, tight, smile.

Then everything happened all at once. Finn started seizing on the table, making it impossible for the surgeons to stop the internal bleeding and damage. Carole screamed as she saw her son lose control. She knew this was it. More doctors flooded the table, obscuring her view, so she kept her eyes on the monitor. Finn's heart rate quickened, then began to slow, and CPR was started. Then, he flat-lined again. Someone else moved to re-place the breathing bag on Finn to help him breathe. Dr. Krane grabbed the paddles and Carole could see his mouth yell "Clear". They shocked her baby boy, several times, each time briefly lifting him up and setting him back down like a rag doll. But each time, nothing changed. Carole was sobbing now, barely able to see into the trauma room through her tear-filled eyes. For 15 minutes they tried. Finn never stabilized, never had a heartbeat or breath of his own. Finally, 18 minutes after he began to seize, Dr. Krane had the doctors shut off the paddles and step away. He looked up at Carole, unbelievable regret and sorrow etched on his face as he mouthed the words, 'I am so sorry'.

"NO!" Carole screamed, her hands covering her face as she slid to the hospital floor, her back against wall next to the trauma doors. She couldn't stop crying, couldn't stop shaking. It was like losing Christopher all over again, except it wasn't. Christopher was her love, but he had had his problems. Finn was her _life_, and now she would be forced to live a life without him.

"Oh no," a voice said, to the side of Carole. It was soft and sounded far away, and for a moment Carole didn't know whose voice it was. She finally pulled herself out of her grief for a moment and looked to her right. 100 yards away from her, making his way slowly down the hallway, his hand grasping wall for support, was Burt.

For a moment, Carole felt like the worst person in the world. Her sick, weak husband, who had calmly driven both of them to the hospital, she had left behind in the parking lot, not caring how or if he met her inside. Burt was white as a sheet, and she could see his legs buckling slightly beneath him as he made his way to her. She should go to him, help him so that he can join her sorrow, but she just could not bring herself to move. This was Finn's time, he deserved all of her attention, and no one else was going to come between that. She knew that Burt would understand.

Burt, having been left in the hospital parking lot, struggled to make it into the hospital. He made it inside when he found the same young nurse that Carole had spoken to, and she pointed him in the right direction, and asked him if he wanted a wheelchair after seeing him walk on shaky legs. He declined, and made his way down the hallway, as quickly as his tired self could carry him. Luckily, his medication had worked and he no longer had the desire to throw up every few minutes. When he turned the corner, that's when he saw Carole. She was leaning against the wall, on the floor, and he could see a handprint mark on the class of the window on the door next to her. He knew the worst had happened. 'Oh no', he had meant to say in his head, but it came out loud instead, and Carole looked up at him.

"She looked like she wanted to die, like she was being stabbed by a million painful knives. Her eyes were red, filled with tears, and she was shaking. She did not move, did not make the effort of standing up, and Burt understood. He had experienced enough sadness of his own to realize that helping him would take her mind of Finn, and right now, she _needed_ to be thinking of only Finn, to grieve him. He walked past her for a moment, to look through the window himself.

There he was, Finn, laid out on the trauma room table, a member of the medical staff cleaning the blood off of him, burn marks on his chest. Burt's own eyes filled up, shocked that his son, albeit by marriage, was no longer going to be over watching the game, fixing cars, and being the son he had expected to have all those years ago. He loved Kurt, he really did, and Kurt would always come first, but the truth was, Finn was the one who willingly spent time doing things that Burt enjoyed doing because he wanted to, not because he had to. He had once said that he never expected Finn to accept him as a father, but between him and that Will Schuester, Finn began to accept father figures into his life. No, it just couldn't be real. He turned and slid down along the wall, alongside his wife, and gathered her into his arms.

"H-he's gone," she cried out, burying her face in Burt's shoulder. Burt tightened his grasp on her.

"I know," he choked out. They sat like that for the better part of an hour, crying into each other, trying to figure out how they were going to live the rest of their lives. Dr. Krane eventually came out, not in his scrubs and coat, but in civilian clothes.

"Carole?" He asked timidly. She looked up at him, grief in her eyes. "I am so, so sorry. I tried everything I could. I don't know what happened. He had severe internal damage to his liver and kidneys, as well as head trauma, but I don't know why he seized. He shouldn't have seized that way. I-I am just so sorry."

"I know," she said softly. "Thank you, though, for trying to save him. Can I see him?" Dr. Krane looked at her.

"He is getting cleaned up right now, but when Martha's done, absolutely."

"I can finish cleaning him up," she said. Dr. Krane nodded, and helped pull her to her feet. Burt struggled to regain his footing, but with the help of Dr. Krane and Carole, he made it up. Dr. Krane led them into the room silently.

"Martha, you know Carole Hudson-Hummel, right?" he asked the older nurse sitting by Finn. Her head snapped up in recognition, then her eyes grew wide in seeing Carole, distraught, and in everyday clothes.

"Oh, Carole, no," she began. "I am so sorry. I should have recognized him!" Dr. Krane stepped forward.

"Martha, Carole would like to finish cleaning her son, so you can go," and Martha got up silently, squeezed Carole's shoulder, then left the room. Carole went over to the chair Martha was occupying, and grabbed a clean washcloth, and basin of soapy water, and began to clean her son off, looking into his pale, cold face.

"Carole?" Dr. Krane asked. She looked up at him. "I need to discuss something with you."

"Okay…"

"I was wondering if you would give your consent to an autopsy on Finn," he stated.

"What? Why?" she asked.

"Right, he died in a car accident, why do we need an autopsy?" Burt also interjected. Dr. Krane rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

"You see, when I called time of death, I went to visit the other passenger in the car, a Noah Puckerman? Do you know him?" Carole looked shocked.

"Puck? He was with Puck? Is he okay?"

"Aside from some injuries that will heal with time, he is fine. Shaken up, and devastated when I told him about Finn, but he will be okay. The way Finn seized really bothered me, so I went to talk to him about the accident. He said that he and Finn had been at a party, but had separated for a while. Noah had a few drinks, and then Finn found him about an hour later, looking sick. Noah claims that Finn was shaking and wanted to go home. Noah had been drinking, and had wanted to call a cab, but Finn assured him that he could drive. Apparently, Finn started driving erratically, and he took a curve way too fast which landed them upside down in a ravine. Now, we measured Finn's BAC, and it read a 0.02 at the time of rescue, which, while under the influence, even at 0.04, which is where I estimate it to be at the time of the crash, isn't high enough to cause shaking and erratic driving of that intensity, and add to that, according to Puck, Finn was answering questions and mentally did not seem to be under the influence or intoxicated with alcohol. I just want to run an autopsy to see if anything else could have caused that behavior and led to that crash. But, I need your consent," Dr. Krane finished. Burt and Carole looked at each other and Burt nodded at her.

"Okay, Dr. Krane. I trust you, go ahead and do it," she answered, refocusing her attention on cleaning her son's face.

"Okay, someone will be down to take him in a few minutes. It may take a day or two to get all of the results in, so when he is taken, I suggest you go home, and begin making arrangements while we wait. Again, I am so sorry." Dr. Krane left the room.

Carole continued to wash the blood and dirt from Finn's face as Burt stood behind her, his hands on her shoulders for support, looking into his stepson's face.

"He looks peaceful, doesn't he?" Burt asked, sadly.

"Yeah. I feel like I should cover him with a blanket and make sure his alarm is set for the morning," a small smile crossed her lips. "He was growing up to be such a great man," her smile faltered and gave way to tears again. "But, he won't get to grow up, will he? My baby's gone, he's gone…" and she broke down. Never again would she dry his tears, fix his problems, answer his phone calls. And now? Now she finds out that he may have inadvertently caused his own death. A part of her suspected that, and she hated herself for thinking that way. She began to feel the grieving numbness envelope her, the same numbness she felt when Christopher died. The need to arrange things, take control of the situation to regain the control she didn't have to make the crash not happen. She continued to clean Finn, looking into his face, relishing every second she had left to touch him, to feel his solid body, because before long, it would be gone from her, and she would never hold her baby again.

A member of the lab came down, to collect Finn, and Carole set down the washcloth and kissed her son on the cheeks and forehead, and held him in her arms one last time. Burt then stepped forward, Carole by his side, and he squeezed Finn's hand, and traced his face with his fingers.

"Goodbye, sweetheart," Carole whispered as they began to wheel him away.

"Goodbye, kiddo," Burt said in farewell, watching him being taken from the room. Burt staggered a little. All of this time on his feet, and his adrenaline long gone, he was spent. Carole held him up, her arm around him.

"Honey, are you okay? I am so sorry if I wasn't caring earlier," Carole apologized. Burt shook his head.

"No. Don't apologize. I fully understand. And I am the one who is sorry. Finn was a great kid. I can't imagine life now without him." He sighed and he and Carole made their way out of the trauma room and back down the hallway towards the triage desk. At the desk, she was stopped by the early morning staff, the ones she usually worked with. Many expressions and comforting words were said, and they both accepted a lot of hugs. They began to leave, when Carole stopped suddenly.

"Hold on, I want to ask them something," Carole said to her husband, and turned around.

"Nancy? Do you know the condition of Noah Puckerman? He was in the car with Finn. Is he still here?" Nancy, the head nurse of the early shift checked her computer.

"No, Carole, I'm sorry. He was released a few hours ago," Nancy answered. Carole's face fell.

"Okay, thanks," she said, and she and Burt made their way sadly to the car, their arms wrapped around each other, wanting to go back in time 12 hours, when everything was okay.


	7. Chapter 6: Kurt

Kurt woke up to the sun filtering through the tiny window in his bedroom. He groaned and got up, ready to begin his morning ritual. He noticed a couple of missed calls on his phone, but after looking at his clock radio, realized that whoever it was would have to wait until he was on his way to NYADA for the day. As he was choosing the perfect outfit for his mood for the day, he saw his phone light up again, and saw his dad's face on the screen.

"Sorry, Dad," he said to the phone, ignoring it. He still had so much to do before getting to school. He had spoken more to Carole in the last few months than his father, as Kurt normally was in school long after Burt had fallen asleep from the chemo. He decided to call his dad quickly on his walk to the subway. It would be a short call, but at least he would get to hear Burt's voice.

An hour later, Kurt was dashing through the streets of New York, walking quickly to the subway station. He pulled his phone out and called home.

"Kurt! Where the hell have you been?!" Burt's voice sounded over the phone. Kurt was taken aback.

"Dad, I'm sorry! I have been so busy, and you know, I have tried calling you a few times, but you weren't feeling well. I'm here now though, so what's up?" Kurt explained, still wondering why he was greeted the way he was.

"Kurt, where are you?" Burt said. Kurt was confused.

"Dad, I'm in New York. I go to NYADA, remember?" Kurt answered, concerned.

"No, I know that! Where are you, right this second? What are you doing? I hear a lot of noise," Burt responded.

"I'm running to the subway station. I have a class in about an hour, and I have so far to go. And you'll never believe it, Dad, but I-"

"Kurt, stop." Burt, said suddenly, but softly. Kurt frowned. He had been getting used to his father's shorter temper from the chemo, but after so many days of not talking, Kurt was a little more than hurt that his dad didn't seem to care about how his life was going. But Kurt took a deep breath and sighed, still hurrying to the station. He just couldn't afford to miss that train.

"Okay, Dad. What's wrong?"

"I said stop, but I still hear you moving and out of breath. Kurt, I need you to stop and sit down someplace. I need to tell you something, and I will be damned if I tell you while you are literally running to school." Kurt stopped abruptly and looked around. The closest thing to him where he could sit was the steps of the library one block down. They would have to do.

"Okay, hold on, Dad, there's not really a place to sit anywhere. Walking towards the library steps right now." Kurt continued to walk, listening to the silence on the other end with increasing worry. As soon as he sat on the steps, he braced himself for the worst.

"Alright, I am sitting down. What's wrong?" Kurt asked his father. He could hear Burt take a few shuddering breaths. 'Had he been crying?' Kurt thought.

"Kurt, kiddo, I don't know how to tell you this, so I am just going to say it, okay?" Kurt's mind flickered to that night, here in New York, at that diner, when his father said almost the same thing before explaining he had cancer. His father was supposed to be fine, but what if he wasn't?

"Okay, I'm ready." Kurt froze, waiting to hear what had happened.

"Kurt, late last night, Carole and I got a phone call. It's-it's Finn. He was in a car accident with Puckerman. Puckerman's pretty beat up, but he will be okay. But Finn? Finn. God, I am so sorry to tell you this on the phone, but Finn didn't make it," Burt's voice cracked at the end. Kurt felt that he was in a bubble. No longer could he hear the taxis, the sirens, the hustle and bustle of New York City. He couldn't feel the steps beneath him, or feel the breeze that had been cooling his face mere seconds before. His step-brother, no, his brother, was gone. Finn Hudson, the kid who Kurt had had a crush on, but then who became family, and a best friend, was gone. His protector would no longer be there to support him.

"Kurt? Kurt, are you okay, buddy?" Burt asked, knowing how difficult it would be for Kurt to process.

"H-how?" That was all Kurt could bring himself to say.

"Um, we aren't really sure. Puckerman told the doctors that he and Finn had gone to a party. Puck couldn't drive, and didn't think Finn should either, but Finn assured him that he was fine, just not feeling well. He was speeding and missed a curve and hydroplaned or something, and plunged off the side, into a ravine. But, the, uh, doctors want to do an autopsy. Certain things aren't adding up." Kurt could barely intake all the information.

"What things?"

"We don't know yet. We're waiting on the doctors. But, Kurt, I know you love New York, and it's probably a busy time for you, with finals coming up and everything, but…"

"Dad, I am heading back to the loft and getting plane tickets." Kurt stopped. Rachel. Who was going to tell Rachel?

"Dad, does Rachel know yet? I mean, has anyone called her?" Kurt asked.

"No. So far, the only people we know who are aware of this are Puckerman, you, and us. I know it will be incredibly difficult, but could you please tell her and see if she can get here as soon as possible too? I hate to ask this of you, kid."

Kurt wanted to say no. He begged himself for the meanness to come through so he would say 'no'. But, he knew Puckerman, regardless of his desire to be a bad-ass, would be inconsolable for a few days, and he knew he couldn't make Burt and Carole do it. After all, they had lost a child. Kurt could feel himself finally break down. He needed to get back to the apartment, away from the outside world. He felt the tears prick his eyes. He needed to wrap this up.

"Yeah, Dad, I'll tell her, and I will get us to Lima as quickly as we can, okay? I am so sorry. I will be home soon and I love you and Carole, okay?" Kurt finished, his voice breaking.

"Okay, kid. I will see you soon. Love ya too. Be safe." And the call ended. Kurt walked back to the apartment numb, trying to process. What had happened? Finn knew better than to drive drunk. He wanted to be angry at Puck for having any part of the accident, but he couldn't. It seemed like Puck had grown up. He dreaded telling Rachel, knowing that it would be neither easy, nor pleasant. He knew that deep down, she hoped, and he thought, knew, that Finn and her would end up together in the end. But that was before. And now he would have to be the one to tell her that her second, but no less important dream, was shattered. Kurt stumbled back to the apartment, unaware of anything around him. He knew Rachel went on a run in the morning, so she would be back soon. Santana was working a double shift, so she wouldn't be home for a while. That was for the better.

Kurt went upstairs, went inside, locked the door and sat down on their beat up couch, placing his head in his hands. That was how he stayed, wondering how he was going to move on himself, but also how he was going to tell Rachel.


	8. Chapter 7: Rachel

Rachel had woken up at 6am, to get going on her morning routine of grabbing a bagel, warming up, going out for an hour run, back to take a shower, grab her dance bag, and get to class by 10. She would have liked to get a treadmill for the apartment, so she wouldn't have to go outside, but, with Kurt having to be at class earlier, she didn't want to wake him up, when his sleep was more valuable.

Rachel smiled as she ran through the streets of her new home, her dream, New York City. The sun was shining bright, and there were only a few clouds floating high in the sky. She relished the sights and the sounds of the city, sometimes having a hard time believing that she was really here. She was here, going to an amazing school, waiting to hear on _Funny Girl_, with friends she loves, and a boy who, while they were not together, she knew that someday they would be, forever.

As she was running, something, a feeling, kept prickling at the back of her neck. It was almost a chill, a cold feeling spreading through her. But, it was warm outside, hot even, in the bright May sunshine. Something just didn't feel right. _Funny Girl_. That had to be it. She was supposed to find out today, find out whether she had gotten the part or not. She knew she shouldn't be counting on it, she was very young, and new to the NYC world, but part of her wanted it so badly. She had to get home. She had to know. She turned around promptly and raced back to the apartment to hear her fate, whether it was good or bad.

Rachel plowed through the door earlier than Kurt expected. Out of breath and pulling her hair back again, she was greeted with a sight that stopped her heart slightly. Kurt was sitting on the couch, when he should be in class, his face in his hands. And judging by the way his shoulders trembled slightly, he had recently been crying. He looked up at her, his eyes rimmed with red.

"Kurt? What happened? What's wrong?" She asked, moving towards him. He took a deep and very shaky breath.

"Rachel, come sit down. I need to tell you something, and it's going to be hard," he began. Her face fell, but she seemed to steal herself quickly.

"If it's about _Funny Girl_, it's okay," she started rapidly. "I knew it was a long shot from the start, and even though I really wanted it, I know going against Sutton Foster was going to be impossible. So, I am ready. I can take it. Just tell me what they said, and I will put on a brave face and-"

"Rachel, stop," oh goodness, he sounded like his father. "This-this isn't about _Funny Girl. _It's actually a lot more serious. I think you should sit down."

"Okay…" Rachel said, sitting down cautiously on the sofa next to him. "What's wrong." Kurt ran his hand down his face.

"I, um, got a phone call from my dad this morning. He had been trying to call me all night and morning. And-", Kurt began to break down in tears. How was he supposed to get through it? Rachel looked at him, worry evident in her eyes. She put her hand on his shoulder in a very tender, un-Rachel-like way.

"Kurt? What's wrong? Just say it. It won't be that bad."

"I finally got a hold of Dad. There, um, there was an accident last night, involving Puck and Finn." Kurt paused to look at Rachel. Her face had gone stark white, and her hand removed itself from his shoulder and placed itself on her mouth.

"Kurt, what happened? Who's hurt? What happened to Finn?"

"This is so hard, Rach. Puck is going to be okay. He is really banged up from the sound of it, and is probably going to be even more screwed up, but, physically, he will be okay. But, Finn? Finn, well, he, he didn't make it. He's gone, Rachel. I am so, so, sorry," Kurt's voice broke on the "sorry". Rachel's eyes were filled with tears, and a look of disbelief was on her face. She pulled herself from his side.

"No," she began sternly. "No, this can't be right. He just texted me last night, wishing me good luck on hearing back today. See?" She held her phone out. "9:30pm. That's when he texted me. And then, he left me a voice message later last night, telling me how proud he was of me, that he loved me, and that he knew I would get the part. He left that at 9:50pm. He can't be dead. They're wrong, _you're wrong_. He wouldn't leave me. He just wouldn't!" And she broke down into tears, punching Kurt in the back, while holding him tight to her at the same time. Normally, Kurt would have a sharp retort, pull himself away, and whine that she hurt him. But he let her. If he could, he would punch his perfectly moisturized hands through the brick wall of their apartment. He knew and felt the denial she was expressing. He still couldn't believe that he was gone. Kurt loved Finn like a brother, but Rachel? They were supposed to end up together. The goofy star football player and the high-maintenance theatre diva.

They sat like that for an extremely long time, Rachel having long since given up assaulting Kurt. She had quieted some, crying, but no longer sobbing. Kurt had been silent for some time, no longer crying, almost feeling empty, mechanical. He knew he had to get tickets, that they had to fly out soon, today if possible. There was much to do, and he, as a Hummel, needed to be the one to get things in order. He gently pulled away from Rachel.

"Rachel, I need to grab the laptop. We need to leave, today, if possible. I have to go get us tickets. You can stay here if you want to, or you can go pack." Kurt went to unplug the computer from the wall, and returned to the couch, Rachel still sitting there, frozen. Kurt was about to say something encouraging, but was interrupted when Santana walked through the door.


	9. Chapter 8: Santana and the Gang

Santana walked into the apartment, tired and frustrated from a night of lousy tips. All she wanted was to take a shower and go to bed for a few hours before her dance class later in the afternoon. She was stopped, however, by the sight before her. Lady Hummel and Man Hands were sitting on the couch, the former with a laptop in his dainty lap, and both of them with blotchy faces and red eyes.

"Oh, God," she said, rolling her eyes. "_Please _tell me you are not watching that horrible _Moulin Rouge _again. Seriously, every time you watch it, you bawl your eyes out for hours. It is just a movie, girls, move on." Kurt looked at her, unsurprised. He closed his laptop.

"We're going home to Lima first thing tomorrow morning," he said. "You are coming too."

"If this is about going to cheer on the new New Directions, then hell no. I am proud to be out of Lima, and I am not going back again so soon."

"Santana, you don't have a say in this. You're going," Kurt insisted again.

"No way, _Porcelain_. Give me one good reason why I should miss dance class and a decent double shift."

Rachel looked at her with a look Santana had never seen on her before.

"Because Finn is dead," she said softly. Santana's eyes went wide and she collapsed on a nearby end table.

"What? What do you mean 'he's dead'?"

"There, um, was a car accident. Puck is hurt, but he should be okay. Finn didn't make it. He died late last night," Kurt said, with little emotion. Santana knew that sound, had used it several times herself. He had put up a wall, a barrier to separate himself from the tragedy. If he focused on others, or on making arrangements, he could forget the reason those tasks had to be done. Santana also knew that there was no point in trying to bring him out of it. The truth would hit him, and hard, when a trigger in him was finally tapped. What it would be, Santana did not know. From her experiences, it could be something as simple as a certain food or sound, or as monumental as seeing the wreckage of an accident. Santana had been through enough tragedies, many of which no one knew about, to know the process.

"I can't even," she struggled to put her words together. "Do they know h-how it happened?" Santana asked the question calmly, and while her eyes threatened to tear up, she did not cry. Kurt looked to Rachel, and after seeing her break down again, he sighed.

"They are doing an autopsy to try to figure that out. The responders first thought it was a simple hydroplaning, then, after measuring Finn's BAC, they thought maybe he was under the influence, but something Puck said to them and how he didn't make it, makes the doctors think something else was at play. But we don't know what," Kurt responded emotionlessly. He could have been announcing dinner specials. Santana got up, putting up her own wall and taking over some of the control.

"Okay, this sucks. But, we are leaving for home tomorrow morning. Now, do the rest of the graduates know?" Santana asked. Kurt shook his head.

"Not from what I know. I had to ask Dad about Rachel and then he asked me to be the one to tell her. I don't think anyone aside from us, Puck, Dad and Carole know."

"Alright. Kurt, start packing and call your dad to let him know our flight info. But don't pester him about picking us up. We can take a cab. Rachel, go to your room, cry your eyes out like I know you want to, and then start packing. I will be in to help in a little bit. I am going to pack quickly, then call the rest of the graduates. I have a feeling that Quinn might want to meet us here," and with that, Santana went into her bedroom and closed the door.

She moved to her bed before falling into it, tears finally springing to her eyes. It wasn't that she was going to miss Finn, exactly. They fought constantly, and she didn't think he was _that_ talented. But, Rachel loved him, and she had to admire what he had done for Rachel, and her heart broke that these two people, so perfect for each other, would never get that happy ending. But were there such things as happy endings? If there were, Santana had certainly never seen one. Hot tears spilled down her cheeks, again, not so much for the boy who was taken from them, but for those who were left behind. She cried for Puck, who would be without his best friend. To be honest, Finn had been unbelievably good for Puck, had turned him around. She cried for Mr. Schue. It always had disgusted her, that they had the relationship they did, only realizing now that it was because she was jealous of it. She cried for Kurt who had lost a brother. If anyone could see her right now, they would have done a double take.

'Okay, that's enough', she thought to herself. She got up, and just like that, began packing. She didn't own much, and especially not much suitable for the events to take place throughout the week. She finished quickly and grabbed her cell phone, pulling up her phone book. This was going to be the hard part. She decided to call Quinn first, in case she did want to fly back with them, it would give her enough time to pack, get a ticket, and travel to their apartment. She hit "send" and dreaded the next few passing moments.

Quinn had just gotten back from an early morning class, and had the rest of the morning to start studying for her finals in two weeks. Not that she was worried, she was doing exceedingly well, had aced every exam, so there really didn't seem to be a point to study too hard. She was grabbing some books to take outside with her when she saw her phone ring. She groaned inwardly at the sight of Santana's face. Their relationship had always been weird, and Quinn never really knew where they were at. But, she picked up the phone and swiped to answer.

"Hey Santana, what's up?" She heard silence on the other end. "Santana?"

"Hey-" Santana finally responded. Quinn was nervous because it didn't happen often, but she _thought_ Santana had been crying.

"Santana, is everything okay?" Another pause.

"Quinn, I need to tell you something. Are you sitting down?" This couldn't be good. She placed her books back on her desk, turned around, and sat down on her bed, her legs dangling idly over the side.

"Yeah, I'm good. Let me have it."

"Quinn, Kurt got a phone call from his dad last night. I'm not really good at breaking things gently, so I'm just going to say it. Puck and Finn were in a car accident last night. I don't know all the details, but I know that while Puck is really banged up, he will be okay, but Finn? Finn didn't make it," Santana finished, uncharacteristically soft. Quinn felt herself slide of the bed to the floor, her phone in a vice grip against her ear.

"You mean, he-he's gone?" She asked slowly, hoping, and well, praying, that she had heard Santana wrong.

"Yes, I'm sorry. Look, I know you are going to need some time to process, and I have a lot more phone calls to make. You are the first one to know so I will text you after I have contacted the others, okay? But just so you know, we couldn't get a flight to Lima tonight, so we are on a flight tomorrow morning, leaving at 7am. You are more than welcome to join us. I will email you the link to our flight info if you want to get a ticket. We have plenty of space if you want to come tonight and sleep over."

"..kay," Quinn said softly. Santana felt her stone cold heart go out to her.

"Quinn, we're going to get through this together, I promise. I'm going to hang up now. Start packing, and we will see you tonight." And Santana hung up, while Quinn sat on the floor and sobbed for the boy she once loved.

Without preamble, Santana called Mercedes next. Mercedes was trying out her fame in Tennessee this week, as LA had failed her. Mercedes was getting ready to head to a new studio to try and entice them with her demo. She was beginning to lose hope, but she refused to give up on her dream just yet. She was just putting her accessories on when her phone blinked. Her eyes grew wide when she saw that it was Santana. Santana never called her. Hell, she never even texted her. She knew something was up, so she sat down at her vanity and picked up the phone.

"Hey girl," Mercedes said, cheerfully, hoping it was a good phone call.

"Hi. Listen, Mercedes, you got a minute?" Santana said carefully. Mercedes' heart sank.

"Yeah, Santana, I have a minute. What's wrong?"

"Look, you know I suck at the whole being caring, being tender thing. I have some bad news to pass on to you. Kurt got a phone call today, from his dad. Last night Finn and Puck were in a bad car accident. Puck was injured, but will be okay. Finn, unfortunately, didn't make it. I'm sorry," she finished. She hoped that Mercedes wouldn't ask many questions. She didn't want to get into the whole _how_ it happened part.

"Oh my Lord, Bless him," Mercedes said softly. "How are Kurt and Rachel?" Santana sighed in relief. That was easier to talk about, she could be detached.

"Kurt is upset. He is pulling a 'Santana', putting up a wall, and being all business. It won't last, but I don't know when he will snap. Rachel has done nothing but cry. She is supposed to be packing, but I bet she hasn't moved from her bed."

"Poor things. I take it you're heading to Lima?"

"Yes, tomorrow morning," Santana confirmed. "Quinn is joining us."

"I'm looking online. I can get a flight tonight. Text me your flight info. I will pick you guys up. My mom gave me her old mini-van."

"Thanks, Mercedes. I have a few more calls to make. Would you mind calling Mike? I don't know him as well. I will see you tomorrow. Bye." And the phone went dead. Mercedes rolled her eyes, but understood that that was Santana. All business, and in this case, that came in handy. Mercedes began to pack for her trip home, refusing to cry until she made it back in Lima. She had a reputation to uphold out here. It wouldn't do to look like a hot mess, but first she had to call Mike.

Santana hung up the phone, thinking about who else graduated. If Mercedes was going to call Mike, then the only one left should be Brittany. Brittany was the one Santana was the most worried about. Not because Brittany would fall apart, but that Santana would fall apart. She was close enough to Brittany to feel comfortable in letting the truth hit her. However, Brittany had to know, so Santana hit "send" once again.

Brittany was sitting in her dorm room at MIT, trying to read a complicated book on calculus. Somehow, things seemed to be making sense to her, and she remembered now, that there was a time in which she was incredibly smart. She didn't know why she had regressed into "stupid Brittany" but those times were long gone now. She felt stronger, smarter, and she was happy with herself. She heard her phone start playing, "Songbird", and she was excited to talk to Santana. She had forgotten to call her the other night.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Britt," Santana greeted half-heartedly. Brittany had been friends and a girlfriend with Santana long enough to know that something wasn't right. She had a barrier up, which meant something bad had happened.

"Santana, what's wrong? Why do I sense a shield around you?"

"Oh, Britt," Santana felt her walls crumble temporarily and she began to cry. "We have to go home." Brittany was confused.

"Home? Home, where? MIT is my home now," she explained slowly. For a moment, she sounded like the old Brittany.

"No, to Lima. Brittany, Puck and Finn were in a bad car accident last night," she said.

"And Puck is okay, but Finn didn't make it," Brittany finished. This was why Santana had loved her.

"Okay, genius, how did you know?" Brittany smiled slightly, though tears pricked her eyes, knowing that her vision of glee club would be forever altered.

"Well, if it were Puck, you would not have been the one calling me, Kurt or Rachel would have, because you would be too inconsolable. But you calling, and after you saying that Finn was also involved, it would make sense that it would fall to you to let us know." Santana clutched the phone close to her ear.

"I'm sorry," Brittany continued. "I know you weren't close, but, being so entwined right now with Rachel and Kurt puts you in a rough position. When are you flying out?"

"Tomorrow morning." Santana heard typing on the other end.

"I got a flight for 5am tomorrow morning. Has anyone heard from Mr. Schue?" Santana's eyes grew wide. She had forgotten about him.

"I honestly don't know. I will find out though, and I will see you tomorrow. Love you," Santana said.

"Love you too," Brittany said, hanging up the phone. Brushing away a single tear, she got up to start packing.


	10. Chapter 9: Breakfast Plans

Will woke up to the sound of the phone ringing. He opened his eyes, and saw Emma fast asleep next to him. Looking next at his alarm clock, he understood why his phone was ringing. It was 8am, and he should have been at school over a half hour ago. He groaned, and reaching over to grab the phone, saw the dried mud smudged on his arm, and the events from the night before came crashing down around him. He remembered Puck coming over, telling him that Finn, one of the closest things he had to a best friend, was gone. He picked up the phone shakily, tears once again in his eyes.

"He-Hello?" he answered tiredly, his voice hoarse.

"William, where the hell is your curly-headed self?" the voice of Sue Sylvester demanded. Will's brow furrowed, not understanding.

"Sue? What are you doing back?"

"Well, Buddy, if you had reported to school like the rest of the teachers, you would have found out that I have taken over as principal. Figgins is unavailable for a while. So, you going to tell me why sleeping with your Raggedy Ann doll is more important than being a teacher?" Will groaned.

"Sue, I am not going to be in today, and neither is Emma," he said vaguely. He heard Sue laugh.

"Of course you are, Schuester. I expect to see your corkscrewed noodle hair and the red head in a half hour, unless you really have a great reason, and it better be a good one."

"Sue, please. Finn's d-d, dead," Will managed, after a few attempts. The word felt so wrong, so final. Sue took in a sharp breath. That was not something she expected.

"Let me get this straight, you're calling yourself and Emily, or whatever her name is, in sick, because Hudson is worm food." Hearing that broke Will, and he began to cry again. Emma awoke and looked at him, both confusion and concern on her face. Sue, contrary to popular belief, did have a heart, and that heart did go out to William Schuester at that moment, and hearing him cry over the phone was not a pleasant thing.

"Alright, Michael Landon, stop tearing up. Look, I'm sorry. I didn't particularly love the kid, but he did help with Jean's funeral, so it does upset me. Take all the days you need. Is there anything I can do?" Sue asked sincerely. Will smiled sadly and thought about it. He took a deep breath.

"Sue, I hate to ask this of you, but I honestly don't think I can do it. Can you please tell Sam, Blaine, Tina, and Artie? Tell them what happened, and that we will be having a meeting after school today in the choir room. But tell them not to tell the new members yet. I do want to be the one who tells them, but tomorrow afternoon. Today should just be the ones he went to school with. If it's too much to ask, just tell me, and I will come in today and do it," Will requested, hoping she would say yes.

"You said meeting today after school in the choir room for original members, right? Yeah, I can do that for you. Again, Buddy, I am sorry. See ya later," and Sue hung up. Will set the phone down carefully and felt Emma's arms around him.

"Will, sweetie? Are you okay?" Without answering her, he squeezed her arms tightly, resting his chin on her wrist.

"I still can't believe he's gone. I just can't seem to wrap my head around it. I'm calling a meeting today for the original members. I am hoping that if I text Rachel, she can let everyone know. I should also call Burt and Carole, offer my condolences, see if I can help at all. So much to do."

"Will, stop." Will just looked at his wife. "You're going into mechanical mode. It's okay to grieve. Don't keep it inside for too long, okay? You've got me to lean on, remember?" Emma's eyes were watery as well.

"Text Rachel and go take a shower. I'm going to go take care of the floor, and begin breakfast for when you get out and Noah gets up." Emma stood up and got dressed and headed down the stairs. Will pulled out his phone and sent a message to Rachel.

'I am so sorry. Meeting with original members in choir room at 3:00

If you can make it.'

Will hit 'send' and took a shower, scrubbing the awfulness from last night off of him. When he was done, he got dressed. He pulled his phone out and saw that he had received a message.

'This is Santana. Kurt, Rachel, Quinn, and I are currently in Detroit on a layover.

We will be there. Will let the others know.'

Smiling slightly at their closeness, he then dialed a number he dreaded calling. On the fourth ring, a man picked up.

"Hello?" The voice sounded exhausted and defeated.

"Hey, Burt, it's Will Schuester," Will greeted quietly. Will heard Burt sigh.

"Look, Schuester, I don't want to be rude, but right now is not a great time," he said sadly. Will wasn't sure how to proceed.

"Burt, _I know_ about Finn, and I am so, so sorry," Will said, his voice cracking slightly. There was a pause of silence.

"How, how do you know about Finn?" Burt asked, surprised.

"I had a late night visitor," Will began. "Puck didn't want to go home, so he's here." Will heard a woman and Burt speaking in the background.

"Hey, can I put you on speaker?" Burt requested.

"Absolutely," Will replied.

"Will," Carole's voice came through. "You said Puck was there? Is he okay? I tried to see him at the hospital, but he had already been released. I was worried about where he would go," she rattled off.

"Puck is beat up. Broken ribs, broken arm, bruising. I am more worried about his emotional state though. He didn't want to go home, so he came here around 3am." Will heard Carole let out a breath of relief.

"Thank goodness he's alright. Keep an eye on him, will you? For me?"

"Of course. And Carole, I told Burt, but I am so, so sorry. Finn was like a son to me, or a brother. He was an unbelievable kid, and I would love to help in any way that I can. We've already told all the original glee club members, we are holding a gathering this afternoon. Is there anything we can do to help?"

"Umm," Carole cleared her throat. "If you guys are able, you knew Finn so well. Can you handle the music? We need four or five songs. And I think he would appreciate it if one was sung just by you, and one just by Rachel. Of course, only if you think you can do it. If not, that is fine. We just, we have so much to do, and I know he loved glee club. It would be fitting." Will's eyes were watering. How was he going to get through a solo song at Finn's funeral? But also, how could he even think of telling Carole 'no'?

"Yeah, we'll take care of everything. I am going to be telling the newer members tomorrow. Just keep one of us posted so we know the times and everything. Again, Carole, Burt, I am so unbelievably sorry. Please let me know if you need anything else," Will could hear Carole sniffling.

"Okay, thanks, Will. Bye." And the phone was hung up.

Will sighed and went downstairs, where he was greeted by the smell of eggs, bacon, and pancakes. Emma had decided to make all his favorites. He tried to put a strained smile on his face as he walked into the kitchen.

"Emma, what's all this?" She turned and gave him a small smile.

"I thought I would make your favorite breakfast comfort foods, and I wasn't sure what Noah would want to eat. Do you want to take over the bacon while I wake him, or do you want to wake him? He shouldn't sleep too long." Will ran a hand through his hair.

"You can stay, I should be the one to do it. I wasn't very helpful with him last night, and I should apologize. We should be out soon," and he planted a kiss on her cheek.

Will paused outside of the guest room door, listening for just a moment. He thought he heard Puckerman stirring, but something seemed amiss. He went inside, and saw him kicking his legs wildly, his face contorted with signs of a nightmare. Will went to the head of the bed, and knelt down on the floor. He gently shook the boy's shoulder.

"Puck? Puck, wake up," Will called softly, and Puck's eyes slowly opened, squinting against the sunlight.

"Mmm," he groaned as he sat up. "Where am I?" He looked at the cast on his arm, and then winced when he put his free hand on his ribs. "What the hell?" Then realization hit him full force. "No. This can't be right. That was a nightmare, not real life. Mr. Schue, please tell me I'm wrong." For the first time in his life, Will could see the little boy Noah Puckerman must have been once. Will clapped a hand on Puck's good shoulder.

"Noah, I am so, so sorry. I wish I could, believe me, how I wish it." Puck's face was hard to read. If Will hazarded a guess, he would say that Puck wanted to cry, but was more alert than several hours before, and did not want to cry in front of him.

"Look, Noah. Emma made breakfast for us. Do you want to stay here today, or go home?" Puck looked at him.

"Does Jake know yet?" Will shook his head.

"No. We have a meeting with the original New Directions this afternoon. I will tell the newer members tomorrow. I figured that was best." Puck nodded.

"I agree. I would rather stay here, but only if that's okay with you? I don't think I can face my mom or Jake." Will gave him a small smile.

"Okay, then. And Noah? I am sorry that I wasn't more comforting or, well, acting like an adult last night. I was just in shock," Will apologized.

"It's okay, Mr. Schue. I was a mess too. And, can we, you know, just keep these meltdowns to ourselves?" Will laughed.

"Absolutely." And Puck gave him an awkward one-armed hug.

"Well, Emma made us breakfast. It looks like she laid out some clothes for you over there," he gestured to a chair in the corner. "Why don't you pull those on then come get something to eat. You need to eat before taking any pain meds. We also have to talk about our meeting today, but only if you're ready. I guess I'll just let you get to it," and Will stood up, his knee cracking (when did he suddenly feel so old), and walked out of the room.

Five minutes later, Puck emerged and joined Will and Emma at the table. Emma filled up a plate, handed him a glass of orange juice, and placed two tablets in his hand.

"Eat a little first, then take these," she instructed, kindly. The trio ate quietly for a few moments, none of them wanting to be the first to say anything. Emma was finally the one to break the silence.

"Did you hear back from Rachel?" she asked, looking at her husband. Puck's head snapped up from his plate. Will swallowed slowly.

"Um, no. Actually, Santana answered me back. They're in Detroit right now, heading home. They will be at the meeting today. Sue is letting Artie, Tina, Blaine, and Sam know. I'll tell the others tomorrow. And, um, I talked to Burt and Carole. They want us to provide the music for Finn's funeral," he finished quietly. Puck just nodded in his direction, approving.

"Well, I guess there's a lot to do then. Let me know if I can help at all, okay? Help either of you." And Emma started clearing the plates. Will looked at Puck.

"Want to help me pick out music? I don't think I can do it alone," Will asked.

"Okay," Puck said simply. They both stood up, and Will led them out of the dining room and into the study.


	11. Chapter 10: Sam, Blaine, Tina, and Artie

Sue put the phone down and leaned back in her chair. Shock showed on her face, something that didn't happen often. Finn Hudson was _dead._ She was met with conflicting emotions. He was, generally, a good kid. A born leader, and Sue could respect that. Caring enough to help her with her sister's funeral, and Sue was grateful for that. But, he did have a temper, and she fought herself to forgive him for using the "r" word to describe her precious Robin. She also did feel bad for Will. She never quite understood it, but he was close with the boy. He became the role model Hudson had needed. Now, she had to call that group of misfits in to give them the bad news. In all honesty, as much as she loved inflicting fear, pain, and sadness on the glee club, she felt awful having to tell them this. She picked up the PA microphone.

"Attention McKinley High, I need to see Artie Abrahms, Tina Cohen-Chang, Blaine Anderson, and Sam Evans in my office, now." In their classroom, the four looked at each other, confused. She didn't make fun of them over the pa, something she usually loved doing. The four got up and left.

"Did any of you think that was odd?" Sam asked. The gang nodded.

"I just want to know what she wants now," Tina said bitterly. They walked by the choir room. It was a force of habit, but their eyes roved inside as they were walking. It was empty.

"Wait. Did any of you see Finn or Mr. Schue this morning?" Blaine questioned, his eyebrows furrowing.

"No," they all said. While it wasn't unusual to see Finn until the afternoon, usually Mr. Schue was always lurking around, just waiting, it seemed, to say hello.

"I have a bad feeling about this," Blaine said quietly, almost to himself. They walked into the office stiffly, and Sue motioned for them to sit down. She looked nervous, and that almost never happened.

"Look, I am not going to pretend that we are friends and that I like any of you," Sue began, and Blaine rolled his eyes. "But, I have some bad news to tell you. Schuester will be in later to give you more details." Tina grasped Blaine's hand. "It seems that Finn Hudson died last night." She said it simply, on purpose. She wanted to give them a moment to let it sink in. She looked at the group. Artie looked shocked; Tina was in tears along with Blaine, and Sam? Sam looked like nothing had happened and that worried Sue. She had heard about him after the gun incident. How he had changed his mental personality into somebody different. She didn't want to think about how this news might affect him.

"I know this is hard to take. Will asked me to tell you that there is going to be a meeting for the original glee members this afternoon after school in the choir room. With that said, he does NOT want you telling the newer members. He wants to be the one to do it, but tomorrow. Is that understood?" The group nodded and Sue continued.

"Now, you can use the conference room to grieve and compose yourselves because you don't need to tip off the newer members. Take your time, there's no rush. And guys?" The group looked up at her. "I really am sorry." Tina, Artie, Blaine, and Sam headed out of her office and into the conference room, where Tina fell apart and sank to the floor next to Artie's chair, sobs bursting through her tears. Blaine leaned against the wall, appearing to have an anxiety attack, reaching for his phone, debating on whether he should call Kurt. Sam just stood in the doorway. Calm and relaxed, he just stared straight at them. No one seemed to notice it except Artie.

"S-Sam?" Artie called out shakily, eyes full of tears. Sam just looked at him. "Are you okay?" And to the trio's horror, Sam actually smiled.

"What do you mean? You know what she's doing right?" Sam asked, his smile growing. The others just stared at him, disbelief and confusion on their faces.

"It's Sue Sylvester. She's just screwing with us. A new way to torture us and make us lose focus. Genius really," and he let out a deep laugh. But there was something in the laugh that was not quite right. It was partly hollow, like a small part of him knew that his theory was incorrect. Tina looked at Blaine, who sighed and put his phone in his pocket before walking towards Sam. He placed his hand on Sam's shoulder and looked him straight in the eye.

"Sam, listen to me. Sue is cold-hearted, mean, and sneaky. But she would never joke about something like that. Not since her sister died. Even the way she talked to us and the way she acted goes against the way she always messes with our heads. And then, with Mr. Schue not being here, it makes sense. He wouldn't joke about Finn's death. If he's not here, it must be true. You need to process, and accept that this isn't a sick joke," Blaine explained, hoping that it would register this time. Sam said nothing. The smile faded from his face, and he sat down in a chair, staring into space. Tina started to walk over to him, but Blaine stopped her. He knew that Sam would process it eventually, but that it would take him a while to work through all the possible theories he could concoct to prove it false. It would hit him eventually. Probably when he saw the rest of the members today.

Kurt. Blaine took his phone out again, and dialed Kurt's number. Part of him wanted to be mad at Kurt for not telling him. But, how could he be upset with the love of his life, especially since he had now lost a brother. The phone went right to voicemail, and Blaine hung up. Leaving a message didn't seem like the right thing to do. There would be time for talking, later. Blaine wiped at his eyes, and looked around at the others. Artie's eyes were still red, but he was no longer crying. Tina was beginning to gain control of herself as well. And Sam still sat in the chair, just staring, completely expressionless.

"Okay, guys. We need to get back to class. I think five more minutes to get ourselves ready, then we go. We don't want to make the others suspicious that we haven't shown for lunch yet," Blaine said taking control.

Five minutes later, and the group of four walked steadily to lunch, eyes dries, and very little sadness showing. They sat with their other glee-mates, laughed with them, and put up a great front that nothing was wrong, and the newer members had no idea that one of their leaders was no longer with them.


	12. Chapter 11: Airport

Santana, Rachel, Kurt, and Quinn sat in the Detroit Airport, waiting for their flight home. Quinn had arrived at the loft the night before, where she was greeted with a fierce hug from Santana, a tearful embrace from Kurt, and no greeting at all from Rachel. Rachel stayed in her room, curled in a ball on her bed, and refused to come out. Santana had gone in after calling the others and had to pack for her. She would not eat, she would not drink anything, and she would not speak. It had taken all three of them to help her up and out of the door to head home.

In the cab on the way to the airport she just closed her eyes mouthing silently, and Quinn knew what she was doing. Rachel was praying. Praying that what she had been told wasn't in fact, true. That they were mistaken. If not that, she was then praying for the strength needed to get through the next couple of days.

Even now, 24 hours after Kurt told Rachel the bad news, she still had not spoken a word after her initial reaction. As much as the other three were grateful for her silence in high school, a quiet Rachel was a scary and depressing thing to witness.

Rachel's phone vibrated in her purse, and she looked at the caller id quickly. When she saw that it wasn't who she had been praying for it to be, she tossed it back on the chair next to her and looked away.

"Berry, are you going to answer that?" Santana asked, knowing the answer. Rachel did not even look at her, did not answer. Santana sighed and reached over and picked up the phone. It was a text message from Mr. Schue.

"Guys, Mr. Schue is holding a glee meeting after school today. Original members only. Should I tell him we'll be there?" Santana asked the group. Kurt and Quinn nodded, Rachel said nothing.

"I'll text Mercedes, Puck, Mike, and Brittany," Quinn offered. Santana smiled at her in thanks. Santana replied to Mr. Schue, and they leaned back while they waited.

About a half hour later, Kurt's phone started buzzing. It was Blaine calling. Kurt struggled with himself. Part of him wanted to answer, wanted to cry to him. But, this was not something to be discussed with your fiancé on the phone.

"I guess they know, huh?" Santana said. Kurt just nodded. "Not ready to talk to him yet?" Kurt nodded again. Santana grasped his hand in a very un-Santana-like way. Quinn grabbed his other hand, and he allowed himself a small smile. Without asking permission, Santana reached out and grabbed Rachel's hand as well. While she did not pull away, she still did not look at her friends, did not say a word. The group sat like that, hands held, for a quite a while, waiting for their boarding call.

Each lost in their own thoughts, they almost missed hearing the boarding call for their flight home.

"Flight 297 to Lima, Ohio is now boarding," an attendant's voice rang out. Quinn sighed and was the first to take her hand back as she stood up.

"Alright, I guess it's time to go," Quinn said, taking a shaky breath. Kurt just nodded and stood up as well, grabbing his bag. Santana kept her eyes trained on Rachel. Rachel had not moved to stand up.

"Rachel?" Santana called quietly. "Rachel, our plane is boarding. We have to go now. We're almost home." Rachel looked at her, her face blank, and she shook her head.

"Yes, Berry. We need to go. I know you don't want to. I know it's going to be difficult, but we need to go. Come on," Santana said. Santana glanced at Kurt and Quinn, and both were by her side in seconds. Kurt took Rachel's hand, while Santana and Quinn gently pulled Rachel up, one on each shoulder. To their horror, Rachel just sank to the floor, sobbing. People at the gate began to stare at the small group. Santana was grateful that they were wearing dark clothes and they all had been crying. At least people would realize that they were a group in mourning, and that they weren't abducting Rachel against her will. Although, in some ways, Santana wanted someone to say something rude. She could feel herself getting frustrated with life, and she was looking for a way to let it out. But, there wasn't time for that.

Kurt knelt down on the ground, brushing Rachel's hair away from her face.

"Rachel? Look at me, please," he begged. Surprisingly, she lifted her bloodshot eyes to meet his. "We need to get on this plane. I am not leaving without you. I know you are upset, and heartbroken, but please don't make me have to call my dad and Carole to tell them that I won't be home today to help them mourn and plan their _son's_ funeral. You know that wouldn't be fair." Kurt hated using guilt to get her refocused, but it was all he could think of. Nothing else had worked so far. While she didn't verbalize that she heard him, she sniffed, and struggled to her feet.

" 'Atta Girl," Quinn said, relieved, putting her arm around Rachel's shoulder. "One step at a time." They walked to the flight attendant and boarded the plane. Their flight wasn't very long, but after the last day, Rachel finally, for the first time, fell asleep, her head resting on Santana's shoulder, and her hand clasping Kurt's. Kurt looked at her, a small smile on his face, as he watched her. He knew that this could destroy her. He was nervous that she had not spoken yet. She was not used to disappointment or dreams not coming true, and while she said that making it on broadway was her biggest aspiration, Kurt knew that was wrong. Marrying Finn someday had been. Nothing put a smile to her face more than when she would see him, or talk to him on the phone. Nothing had made her more upset than when she thought he was out of her life. No doubt, this would crush her. Kurt? He was strong, he knew that. He had survived his mother's death, had witnessed extreme sadness. He would be strong, for those around him. He would be patient, and grieve in his own way. He needed to embrace the assets Finn had had. Be the quarterback, be the protector.

Kurt was snapped out of his thoughts by the pilot announcing their descent. He took a deep breath and looked at Quinn and Santana.

"Rachel?" He called softly. Rachel stirred and momentarily looked confused as to where she was. Then it hit her. Her face fell, but she did not say a word.

The group landed, and retrieved their bags from the overhead bins. While they waited for their luggage, Kurt checked his phone. He had a message from Blaine. 'Are you coming after school?' He sighed, and texted back a simple 'yes'. After their luggage made it back to their possession from the carousel, they walked towards the exit. Once past the security point, a familiar voice caught their attention.

"You guys made it. I am so, so sorry," and Mercedes enveloped them all in tight and painful hugs, not wanting to let any of them go.


End file.
